Mission: Impossible: Mamoru Chiba
by Renfield1
Summary: Crossover; yaoi lemon/lime elements. Xellos is assigned to seduce a main character from Sailor Moon, but it doesn't work out quite as he'd planned ... a little sweet & sad.


Mission: Impossible: Mamoru Chiba

  
  


Xellos Metallium unfolded the note which had somehow been packed along with his lunch, and wilted somewhat when he read it.

_Good morning, Xellos Metallium. Your mission, should you choose to accept it (and we all know you will)_

"So why bother to say 'choose?'" he muttered at the annoying note, and a brief new line of print surfaced on the page.

_{humor us}_

Xellos grimaced briefly, and read on:

_Your mission is to seduce **either** Usagi Tsukino **or** Mamoru Chiba._

His eyebrows jumped, and a familiar smile crept back onto his face.

_They are currently staying at a small resort in rural Japan; teleportation will be provided. You are highly discouraged from attempting to seduce both individuals; this will be counted as failure in the assignment._

Xellos pouted, but only briefly.

_As both targets are currently dating each other, the assault should be highly covert and without the knowledge of the other's partner._

_ Ahhh, **there's** the catch,_ Xellos thought, but it got worse:

_Props of any kind are not permitted._

He whimpered at the paper.

_Should you fail in your mission or leave it incomplete, the contents of your purse shall be confiscated and handed over to Lina Inverse._

That made him sweat. 

"No-no, you little--" _ Who the hell is **writing** these things??_

_Good luck! This paper will self-destruct by the time you finish--_

Xellos already knew what the rest of the note said--he simply reached out his arm and committed the page to the wind, little suspecting a sudden draft would blow it up against his back. . . .

_#BOOM#_

  


* * *

In rural Japan, it was late winter, and the deep drifts of snow were damp with a mild thaw. The edges of the resort grounds were very picturesque, but Xellos was most closely watching his target. The couple was standing on a footbridge not far downstream from him, but he was certain he hadn't been seen; they were watching the slabs and chunks of ice churn in the turbulence of the swollen river. He rested his elbows on the railing to plot, and spun himself a human disguise infallable to the medical science of the venue. It took time and energy, to craft his own mortal shell complete with pulse and blood pressure; and when he was done he looked exactly the same, and only felt a little colder. 

Colder. 

The appropriate strategy came to him almost in a flash. 

_ Of course, the wounded-bird ploy,_ he smiled to himself. _ Xellos Metallium, you are a **genius!** --Oh thank you; you're too kind. . . ._

Almost with a smirk, he vaulted lightly over the railing into the freshly-thawed river, only to discover how drastically he had misjudged the current. His body went numb almost at once. 

_ Xellos Metallium, you are an **idiot!**_ he screamed inwardly, just before his head struck the pylon and all thought ceased. 

  
  


The girl saw him first. 

"Mamo-chan,_ look_--there's a_ man _in the river!" she gasped, directing his gaze sharply. After a mild oath, he grabbed her wrist and nearly _dragged _her downstream, racing the current. The banks of the swollen river were slimy and squishy with soaked, dead vegetation, making for a challenging run. 

"This way--we've got to hurry!" he insisted, and nearly skidded to a stop at an overhang which would normally have been four feet above the river, instead of two. "Be alert, Usagi--I'll need your help," he told her, watching the river bear the dark body closer. Just before it could wash past the overhang, Mamoru lunged forward and snared two fistfuls of wet coat, and nearly fell in himself. "Help me--help me pull him out!" he grunted, fighting the current for his balance. Usagi grabbed him around the waist and heaved with all her weight, and he nearly fell over backwards on her. 

"I've got him--I've got him," Mamoru panted, and laid out the victim carefully to check his vitals. The drowned man looked surpisingly young, with shoulder-length, sharply-cut hair and slightly feminine bone structure. His lips were blue. 

"Damn, he's not breathing!" 

"What do we do?" Usagi whimpered, and stared in shock as her boyfriend bent forward and sealed his lips over the cold blue ones. 

_He's--he's kissing that boy! _she realized in alarm; but the longer she watched, the less shocking it became. In fact . . . now that she had a good look at him, the boy from the river was nearly as cute as her Mamo-chan. . . . And she'd never really noticed how attractive Mamo-chan was when he was just _kissing_ someone. . . . And come to think of it, the two of them together did look awfully-- 

Mamoru disengaged and turned the victim on his side. The youth coughed weakly, but did not regain consciousness: there was a red stain on the snow where his head had been. 

"Oh, no, not a head injury," he muttered, and scooped up the boy very carefully to examine his skull. Out of the water, there was slightly more blood flow. 

"M-Mamo-chan? He's got purple hair!" Usagi pointed out hesitantly. 

"What of it?" 

"Um, you don't think he could be from the Negaverse, do you?" 

"We don't have time to stand around wondering about it, even if he is," Mamoru asserted as he got to his feet, carrying the boy. "We've got to get him someplace warm before his clothes freeze, otherwise he'll die of hypothermia." He hurried back along the trail they had taken out, with Usagi in his wake until they came to the door of his room at the resort. 

"You go up to the front desk; tell them what happened and have them call an ambulance," he instructed her. "Then you call my room, got it?" She nodded and ran off. He carried the freezing youth into his bedroom.

  
  


Xellos lay perfectly still as he was stripped; his "disguise" was still too badly damaged to move about in, but he wouldn't have moved much anyway. This assignment was _much _cuter than he'd expected. . . . His body was painfully, almost completely numb, but the heat of the air in the cabin was a sweet blessing, compared to the frigid weight of his sodden clothes. Next he felt Mamoru slip him under the sheets and switch on the electric blanket. 

_Oh, this is too great--now he just has to come in after me. . . . Wish I didn't have this roaring headache. . . ._

  
  


_I can't heat him up in the bath, or he'll drown, _Mamoru ruminated. _ Plus there's the danger of hitting his head a second time--come to think of it, I probably shouldn't have laid him on his back; I don't want to put pressure on a possible skull fracture. . . . _His anxious gaze settled on the still form in his bed. _ Wish there were some water bottles . . . that electric blanket is only going to heat him from one side; I hope I haven't set it up too high--_ With a sigh, he stopped worrying and submitted to medical necessity, quickly stripping off and changing into his pajama bottoms. 

_This had better work, _he hoped, inwardly crossing his fingers. _The only thing worse than being caught in bed with a man, in this case, is being caught in bed with a **dead** man._ Indeed, the youth was already as cold and stiff as a corpse; as Mamoru slid shivering beneath him, he was relieved to note his shallow breathing and pulse. Carefully, he turned the man on his face and began to gently comb his fingers though the damp purple hair, feeling for the head wound. It did not take him long to find, despite the relative lack of swelling; the injury was neither small nor inconsequential. 

_Good **lord**, what did he hit his head on? I hope he's not in a coma--he's lucky his head didn't split open! Oh, no--what if he wakes up a vegetable? _ Mamoru nearly panicked, shivering hard as the heat was leached out of him. The youth's head was nestled between Mamoru's shoulder and neck, and the rest of him lay flush against bare and nearly-bare skin. Fearfully he examined the boy's face for some sign of recovery--his lips had gone from blue to white--and then he began rubbing his back with firm, hasty strokes, to try and massage the heat into him faster. 

"Come on, come on," he urged. "Don't die on me; wake up! You're as cold as a fish!" 

The phone rang, and when he shifted to answer it, the youth's frigid body slid across him. 

"Hello?" 

"Mamo-chan? I told them everything and they've called an ambulance, but there are some roads washed out from the thaw--they say it won't get here until morning, at the earliest," Usagi reported. Mamoru groaned. 

"H-how is he?" she asked. "Have you got him warmed up, yet?" 

"Not yet," he answered. "It's not easy; he's got a very bad head injury, and I don't want to accidentally kill him trying to save his life. Would you just do me one favor?" 

"Anything, Mamo-chan!" she promised. 

"Would you tell them . . not to send anyone down to my room, until the ambulance arrives?" he blushed.

  
  


Xellos regarded his own situation. 

_ It figures. He goes to all the trouble of getting us undressed and into bed--I'm even lying **on top of him**--and I'm too damaged to make the most of it. Damn. . . ._

Although, it _was _terribly nice, being held and petted by a pretty boy in a deliciously warm bed. He stormed against the interior of his disguise, waiting impatiently for it to thaw enough for him to use it. . . . 

  
  


It took less time than Mamoru had feared to stop shivering; the youth was heating slowly, but still much faster than he'd feared. He was relieved to note no signs of shock, and wished he knew more about medicine. The young man had actually regained enough heat that Mamoru was just beginning to drowse off underneath him, when he felt a sudden slight stirring on his chest--then he was _very _wide awake. 

"T-Toshiko? Is that you?" the stranger muttered in a weak, faint voice. He tried to raise his head, and slumped back down on Mamoru's chest immediately, cringing with pain. "I--I hit my head. . . ." 

"What happened to you?" Mamoru asked quickly, but gently. 

"I . . was trying to escape," he murmured faintly. "I wasn't sure I'd survive, but I couldn't . . . I got away. . . . Oh, Toshi, how I missed you . . I told myself--I told myself you were dead, so I could bear it. . . ." Hot tears trickled small trails on his chest, and the next question stopped his interrogation cold. "How did you get away?" 

Mamoru's mind raced._ If I correct him, he'll be crushed-if I can keep him content, he might live longer-I've got to play along--_

"Oh, well, you know me," he bluffed. "I just . . did my thing, you know. . . ." 

The youth chuckled weakly. "They probably didn't even notice you were gone . . for three whole days . . . Toshiko," he murmured. ". . However did you find me . . out here?" 

"Had to fish you out of the river," Mamoru answered. 

"Ah. I had hoped the ice would hold me, but it was too warm," the boy remembered. His speech was still quiet and careful, but not as slow as it had been. He tried to move again, gingerly, starting with his extremities and limbs, keeping his head as still as possible. "My body feels strange. . . ." he added. He was not a little bit warmer than Mamoru had last estimated, he noted with surprise as the youth shifted up along his body and nestled even closer than before, with his head nearly in the hollow of Mamoru's shoulder again. "You've gained some weight, Toshiko," he smiled gently, his eyes still softly misfocused and beginning once more to brim. "Ah--I've missed you so badly. . . ." 

Mamoru's hair nearly stood on end when he felt the young man's hands undo the drawstring of his pants and slip inside like cunning little fish. 

"H-Hey now--get your hands out of there!" 

Toshi's lover blinked. "Wh-why? . . . Have I changed that much? Am I not attractive anymore?" He looked up for an answer with large, stunned purple eyes. "You have . . someone else?" 

"No, it's not that--" 

The youth nearly melted into his shoulder with something like relief. "I only want to make you happy, Toshi," he confided, and the muscles of Mamoru's belly and thighs jumped and twitched with homophobia at his caresses. "A-are my hands still too cold?" 

"Uh--yeah, a little," Mamoru answered through gritted teeth, reminding himself that the ambulance would arrive _first thing in the morning, _before he even knew it. . . . The strange boy turned his face down and made an effort not to cry. 

"I'm sorry, Toshiko . . . I just can't do anything right. . . ." 

"Oh, don't talk like that," Mamoru said a little hastily, and was suddenly at a loss for anything else to say. Then he was at a worse loss, because the youth had stuck his hands deep between his thighs to heat them up. His fingers wriggled slightly now and then, and Mamoru lay back on the pillow and let his head spin. After a longish stretch of minutes, he realized the stranger had stopped moving--he was unconscious. A shock of alarm went through him; he sat up on his elbows and carefully cradled the young man's head. 

"Hey, wake up--wake up!" he urged. "Don't go to sleep!" 

"Uh . . Toshiko?" His eyelids came apart slowly, showing an old squinting habit. "What's wrong?" 

"You have a very bad head injury; if you fall asleep now, you could bleed to death inside your skull," Mamoru explained. "You have to stay awake until the ambulance arrives." 

"Ohh." The youth blinked sleepily. "I'm sorry; I'm just . . very . . drowsy. . . ." He sighed over Mamoru's collarbone. "You'll have to keep me awake, handsome," he smiled faintly, and slid a soft hand up his leg to cup his scrotum. 

Mamoru nearly squeaked out loud. "You don't have to--" he began very quickly. Toshi's lover curled his other arm against Mamoru's chest. 

"I only ever wanted to make you happy, Toshi," he murmured. "Would you destroy my first chance in so long? . . . Maybe my last chance?" he added more quietly. 

Mamoru trembled. He could feel heat collecting in his groin, and forced himself to relax. 

_It's just a very strange dream, _he told himself. _ One of those ones where you dream you're someone else._

Then the boy's hand began to move, caressingly, and migrate to the organ itself, which was slowly stiffening of its own accord. 

"I've missed you so badly," the strange youth was saying. "I couldn't eat for weeks . . I was demoted . . I didn't care. . . . I wish I hadn't hit my head. . . ." And with his hand he folded down the pajamas and began a slow, rhythmic massage, with firm, gentle pressure, along the length of the member, straightening it with warm, patient strokes until it gave off its own heat. Mamoru's mouth fell open. He could not think of a way to stop this weird assault which would not be misinterpreted or . . lead to less savory things. He shut his eyes to wait it out as the young man's strokes grew firmer and more rapid, and his hips began to rock into the sensation. 

_His skull! _he remembered in a small burst of panic. _I don't want to damage his head! _With mounting desperation, he dared to look down and curled his arm protectively around the youth's head. 

Toshi's lover was entirely absorbed in the handjob. He was toying with the skin of the penis, letting it slide back and forth over the hard meat of the erection with each thrust, like the skin of a snake over the muscles of its body. He shifted his weight sideways slightly, until his thigh came into contact enough to take some of the force of the thrusts, and let his hand deal with the intricacies of sensation in the balls and foreskin. 

The injured boy on his chest gave a strange sigh of contentment as the beat of Mamoru's hips slowed, and Mamoru himself gritted his teeth. 

_Mustn't hurt his head, mustn't hurt his head--why didn't I just say no, you've mistaken me for someone else? **Why??** Ah--oh damn--_

His hips surged up against the side of the youth's tender thigh, his palm catching the brunt of the thrust as well as the juices spurting forth with the explosion of ecstasy blooming though his whole pelvic girdle and up his spine. Neural fireworks like the spectrum of a fresh fiery supernova distracted him from his own gasps, his own convulsions, and all but the last few seconds of the young man riding him firmly down, faithfully catching every drop of his fluids before they could damage the electric blanket. The last sweet twinges gave way to a delicious spreading afterglow, and he could hear his own breathing again. 

Toshi's lover sighed again and lay still on his chest. 

"Are you hurt?" Mamoru asked suddenly, urgently. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

"Uh--" The youth tried to lift his head again, immediately flinched with pain and set it down again, trembling. "I--don't think so--Oh, Toshiko--" he moaned, and lost consciousness with a small convulsion. 

"Don't fall asleep!" Mamoru begged in alarm. "Please don't fall asleep! Wake up!" he pleaded, but the boy did not respond this time. He sat up in bed, cradling the wounded stranger gingerly in the crook of his arm. "If you fall asleep, you'll die! Come on, wake up--oh, don't die--" 

His eyes opened a crack, but he did not move much else. 

"S-sorry," the nameless youth whispered. "I can't--I'm trying . . . don't worry. . . ." And his eyes closed again. A muscle in his face twitched. 

Mamoru felt himself on the verge of true panic. The bedside clock told him at least four hours would pass before an ambulance arrived. The young man's clothes he had hung over the heating grate, and were still rather damp. He looked around hastily. 

"Don't die, don't die," he muttered desperately. "Ah! Of course--" It was a little obvious; after carefully cleaning up the unconscious youth (lest the paramedics find semen under his fingernails, and draw the wrong conclusions) Mamoru quickly put on his day things, and dressed the boy in his own pajamas, vainly attempting to awaken him the whole time. 

The next few hours he spent sitting in bed in his day things, trying to wake up the critically injured boy wearing his pajamas, with coaxing and fervent begging. Sometimes he received a twitch or a sigh; once it was a full convulsion, which scared him to tears, and once he caught the words ". . . _happy_, Toshi. . . ." slurred under the sleeper's breath. It felt like several nights all at once, spent sitting up, wasting his breath on a dying man--because Mamoru gradually came to the horrible realization that he _was _dying, despite all the effort put into his rescue, and by the time he finally reached the hospital, there might not be any hope left for the surgeons to work with. . . . 

Mamoru put his face into the hollow of the youth's neck, and let himself weep with hard, silent sobs beyond any shame in their intensity. Two bodies shook with his grief and frustration. He could feel the boy's pulse against his face, slow and very distant. . . .

  
  


There was a knock at the door, and Mamoru jerked his head up. Had he fallen asleep sitting up? 

"Paramedics," someone called, and he extricated himself from their patient to answer the door. 

"Head trauma victim?" asked the man on the other side, and Mamoru simply pointed at the bed. They swarmed into the room with a gurney, one of them standing by to question him incessantly: how long ago did you find him and where, has he said anything, how much do you know about him, say did you get any sleep at _all_ last night? 

"Huh?" Mamoru blinked. "No, I've been sitting up all night, trying to wake him up," he anwered numbly. "I thought if he fell asleep . . lying down . . he'd bleed to death." 

"Well, not exactly, but you've got the right idea," he was told. "And it looks like you've prevented a _lot_ of swelling, whatever you did, but the initial damage is plenty bad enough. . . ." 

The next thing he knew, through a sleep-deprived haze, he'd been talked into the ambulance with them, and sat staring down at Toshi's bandaged lover. His neck and skull rested in a strange plastic brace, and a web of cords and tubes attached him to monitoring machines and saline drips. He almost as pale as he'd been, right out of the river. The paramedics were complaining about the thaw, and the state of the roads. One of them asked again for the youth's name. 

"Hm? He didn't tell me. Actually, he mistook me for someone else," Mamoru confessed "and I didn't want to risk upsetting him. . . ." 

"I see. . . ." 

The ambulance struck a pothole, and Mamoru and the medic both reached out to steady the gurney with the same gasp, the same urgent speed. A small guttural noise came from the boy strapped to it. 

"T-Toshi," he whispered, squinting painfully up at the ambulance ceiling. His right hand twitched and roamed across the mattress until Mamoru caught and held it. 

"Yes?" he responded faithfully, leaning into his field of vision. The young man tried to turn against the brace to see him, but only briefly; another wave of pain crossed his face. When he opened his eyes again, they were still poorly focused, but transcendently happy. 

"Ah--I'm glad . . . . I could see you again, Toshiko," he whispered, smiling a very tired smile. "You won't forget me, will you?" 

"_What? _ Don't talk like that!" 

". . I'm sorry. . . ." the youth whispered ruefully, and his eyes slid closed. He seemed to relax all over and slump down into the gurney, taking on an expression of absolute bliss as morbid peace settled though his body, stilling the nerves and quieting the muscles. The heart monitor, which had been reading slow already, uttered its droning alarm as his heart ceased to beat. 

_No. . . ._

The boy lay still and white for only as long as it took for the medic to move toward the front of the vehicle, intending to initiate resuscitation attempts. Then, as Mamoru looked on-first bleakly, then in astonishment-the youth seemed to _pop,_ as if his skin were only the surface of a soap bubble full of smoke, and all the wires and tubes fell to the sheets through the man-sized cloud of black vapor which remained. Distantly, he heard the medics' exclamations, but he was exhausted past thought and numbed past emotion. Mamoru reached out, as if dreaming, and gently stirred at the inky fog on the gurney with his hand. It moved just like a regular gas-then it seemed to collect itself, instead of dissipating properly, and billowed up toward the center of the cab before glimmering strangely and disappearing altogether in front of the dumbfounded paramedics. 

Mamoru contemplated the empty cot.

  
  


The ambulance was needed elsewhere, and had to complete its journey to the hospital, but from there Mamoru would have to call for a cab to take him back to the resort. First, however, he called Usagi. 

"How is he? Did you get his name?" she asked. 

"He . . didn't make it to the hospital," he confessed wearily. 

"Oh . . . oh, I'm so sorry. . . ." 

"It's all right," he assured her, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm beginning to wonder if he was from the Negaverse . . or someplace else . . . I don't know," he confessed. "I need to sleep on it."

* * *

Someplace else, Xellos Metallium chuckled and took a bow.


End file.
